


Too Close

by tongueofwine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Sex, Uhm, dirty supernatural images, intercourse, p standard fanfiction let's be honest, request, sexual interaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tongueofwine/pseuds/tongueofwine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ryan, a young friend of the Winchester's, meets the Devil, the interaction that ensues is less than she bargained for and they both find out things about each other that neither could've begun to expect.<br/>Prompt / Request was: "Teaching Lucifer personal space." and was requested of me by an anon a while back. Didn't agree with making it sexual but that was also requested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Close

**Author's Note:**

> yo this is just a prompt someone requested at some point on tumblr. Timelines are fucked up, I just don't care enough to trace. Use your imagination.
> 
> Comment, feedback is appreciated.

The first time I became acquainted with the Devil had been, unfortunately, whilst both Winchesters were away from the bunker on a hunt I'd not joined.

I had instead been providing research backup and the general admin Bobby would have covered from the bunker, and it was there that he'd found me, in the early hours of the morning, dancing around the kitchen.

He'd appeared in the most nonchalant way I'd ever experienced, not including Gabriel, who seemed to have a knack for being incredibly smooth, glanced around the room as though searching for something and then landed his clear gaze on me.

If anything he'd seemed amused by immediate defensiveness and, likely more obviously, the relaxed attire that consisted of an old shirt and loose comic book boxes and provided me with more comfort than any evident practicality. After the strange, yet insanely charismatic angel had managed to convince me of his eligibility of motive, he'd given me the answer to the boys' problem and had left with the promise that it was for his own benefit, but that he'd be back to collect my debt soon.

He had taken a somewhat strange interest in me, after that, and it became a disturbing habit of his to pop up unannounced when the brothers were out and follow me around the bunker, making small comments as he did. Occasionally he'd help with my research, an infinite wealth of knowledge accessible to him from the years he'd been alive, but asked nothing in return, which discomforted me a fair amount.

His vessel, for whatever reason, had started to heal over this time and, in the moments I took to glare at him when he'd been staring at me for far too long, a habit he seemed too inclined to, I couldn't help but linger. In retrospect I should've realized my attraction to him sooner, but, in my own defense, it'd been far more distracting focusing on who he was and exercising caution in consideration of his spontaneity and the understanding of how dangerous he could be.

The visits became a regular occurrence soon, given how busy the boys had been, and in some ways I'd become rather thankful for them. He'd persevere in engaging me until we'd fall into conversations that would last well into the night, though often it would be him talking and me just listening. He knew a lot about almost everything and had opinions that, though surprising in nature, fitted my own perfectly and in our similarities we'd find comfort.

But despite this there was nothing I could do not to be wary of him, to retract myself when I became aware of how much we'd gotten lost in each other.

"Why're you so afraid of me?" He asked, interrupting my reverie. He'd sat himself across from me as I worked at one of the library tables, elbows resting on the wooden top amongst the scattered piles of books that I'd thrown aside carelessly in the search for new answers, blue eyes trained clearly on me as I read. It was the second night the Winchesters had been away, out tracking down something a few states over, and he'd hardly left my side.

I let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and something that sounded like surprised incredulity, looking up from the book I'd been trying to decipher. "Isn't it obvious? You're Satan, the almighty evil." He raised his eyebrows almost as if what I'd said meant nothing to him. "Any of this ringing a bell? You're literally my ultimate predator."

"I've done nothing to harm you." He offered, as though it were enough, as though I should trust him. "I wouldn't make you use that." He nodded to where I'd stashed a knife between the books, out of his view, and I looked away, shifting uncomfortably at the knowledge that he was aware of it.

There was always something of an edge to our interactions, either because of my fear that he may snap, turn on me, or because of the awkward discomfort that that fear created. Whichever it was it shoved a wedge between us, making any friendship too difficult to pursue.

"I can't trust you not to give me a reason." I met his gaze finally, noting the hurt that seemed to shine from my response in his usually cool eyes. It made my stomach clench despite the reprimanding reminder that I was right: he was the Devil, evil, and would never be any more.

He stared at me a moment longer and then was gone, leaving me a confused mess.

 

 

It'd been two months since that interaction and I hadn't seen him again, which, worryingly, bothered me. I couldn't speak to either of the brothers, purely because they hadn't been aware of his visits and wouldn't understand (hell, I didn't understand!) even if they were.

I flipped through the leather bound book that was splayed across my bed and hadn't been providing me with any of the answers I wanted, specifically why every time I thought I may never see or be visited by Luce again my chest ached, when two voices broke my concentration.

"Dude, I'm not good with this feelsy shit. You're Mr. Notebook fifty thousand times, you talk to her." Dean's voice crept under the door, his attempt at keeping moderately quiet failing miserably.

"Dean, shut up." There was a sound of scuffling, obviously the idiots shoving each other around, and then Dean strolled into my room, not bothering to knock but closing the door behind him as I glimpsed Sam shooting me an uncomfortable smile.

"Hey kiddo." He greeted, forcing a smile and dropping down beside me on the bed, running a hand through his messed hair.

"'Sup, old man?" I shut the book with a loud bang and flopped into his lap, ignoring the annoyed look he gave me in reaction to my nickname for him. He shifted so that he was comfortable on the bed, running his fingers absently through my hair as he always did.

"You had dinner?" He questioned, glancing down.

"Nah, been studying that thing you two found upstate, still not sure what the hell it is though." He pursed his lips as though trying to find the words to voice what he clearly wanted to say. "Dean, spit it out, what did Sam send you in here for?"

"He's worried about you, I mean, well I am too. You haven't been eating or talking or even really focusing on anything-"

"Dean," I cut him off and tried to push myself up but he just pulled me closer, hugging me to his chest, "mmph - I'm fine." I grumbled into his shirt. "I've just been caught up with work and shit." He hummed, not letting me go for a while before he sat up, pulling me with him.

"Come on, you need to eat." He pushed me up ungraciously and I shoved him back, used to the rough behavior.

"Go ahead, I'll be out in five, let me just clean up." Before I could duck away he pulled me into another hug and kissed my forehead quickly.

"Okay, I'll see you out there."

I waited for Dean to leave then went to the bathroom to wash my face, feeling drained from the continuous work and nights absent of sleep. Letting out a sigh I straightened up to glance at myself in the mirror and the image cleared over Lucifer's frowning expression, a breath behind mine.

"He looks at you quite differently, doesn't he? I mean definitely differently to the way old Sammy boy does." He said nonchalantly, almost as if discussing the weather, not bothering with niceties.

"Jesus Christ," I hissed almost under my breath, "yo, Satan, back the fuck up, yeah?" I turned to face him and raised my palms to buffer the two inches between our bodies, but he merely frowned in confusion and cocked his head to the side to glance at me from a different angle, as though the change in position would have any affect on his understanding.

"You dislike closeness?" I closed my eyes at the question, swallowing and taking a deep breath to sooth my frayed nerves before I met his seemingly closer, blue gaze once again.

"There's this thing we humans like to call personal space, and, when there are people you don't like in it, it can be highly uncomfortable." I raised my eyebrows, expecting him to move.

"Where is it?" He glanced around, an adorably confused expression on his face.

"It's intangible really, just a concept." I pressed a hand to his chest and gave him a gentle shove backward, surprised that he even budged and attempting to ignore the feeling of his firm form beneath my fingers, until he was an arms length away and then indicated to the space between us. "See this is my personal space and if you value my feelings you'll stay out of it unless you have no choice."

"What if I want to be close?" He tilted his head ever-so-slightly again, shifting forward almost thoughtlessly, and for a moment I watched him in interest before shaking my head to clear the strange thoughts.

"Then you deal with that in your own time. With a shrink." I grumbled, turning around again to wash my hands.

"I don't like it: Dean's look. He doesn't look at you like a friend or a sister, not like Sam. He finds you attractive, he looks at you with a lustful stare, one of warm loins." His voice cut through the temporary distraction of lathering my hands in soap and I felt heat flood my cheeks at his words.

"I don't think you're right there." I rinsed the rest of the suds away and pat my face with cold water before turning, once again, to stare at the Devil.

"They're my friends, more like my brothers than anything else."

"That is possibly only your interpretation of it."

"Yeah, maybe it is. But this is only really your interpretation of it." I frowned and leant back against the sink, balancing my palms on the edge. "What are you doing here anyway?"

He examined me carefully, folding his arms across his chest and casually resting his shoulder against the door frame, blocking the exit. "I came to see you."

"Right. You do realize we're not friends right?" He didn't smirk or laugh as I'd expected him to, but remained impassive aside from the narrowing of his dark eyes. "I can't exactly welcome you with open arms; these visits are entirely on your terms and I don't enjoy them."

"Do I not provide pleasant company?"

I thought about the question for a moment. "It's less that your company is unpleasant, and more that _you're_ not the kind of company I really keep. In any case your motives are, if I'm honest, suspect. Not knowing what it is you want, exactly, is unnerving."

He set his jaw, eyes straying from my gaze to linger on my lips and then rove down my neck.

"What's wrong with me?"

I let out a bark of laughter, shaking my head and crossing my arms, uncomfortable with the fact that he was still staring at my collar. "We've been through this. Look what do you want, Luce?"

He did laugh at that, finally meeting my eyes again. "Luce? That's a new one." Before I could apologize he was speaking again. "I like it, it's familiar. Almost friendly. Nice change from the usual hostility." He winked, but behind it I could see something of a sadness. "I've never needed an excuse to see you."

"That was before. And usually you come when they're not here." I jerked my head to the door Dean had just left through.

"Before what?"

I raised both eyebrows."Before you disappeared for two months and didn't contact me to shoot me a 'hey, I'm alive, going to be away for a little while'."

"I didn't realize I'd need to." I let out a breath, shaking my head before I shoved passed him and started shuffling my notes into piles on the bed."You're angry with me."

"Jesus, why are you here? What do you want from me? Am I really this much of an entertainment to you?" I dropped the book again and whirled on him, suddenly fuming.

"Just to see you, I just came to see you."

" **Why**?" I emphasized, catching his gaze with blazing eyes. I knew he could snap, hurt me, destroy me, really, but in that moment I didn't care. It didn't matter that he was dangerous, or that if he matched my anger in that moment there might be less of the bunker and more of a crater, all that mattered was that I needed him to answer the question.

He moved hesitantly into the room, watching me softly. "You intrigue me, I thought I'd indulge to engage you."

"I'm not an indulgence!" I snarled, fists curling at my sides, but he said nothing. "And you disappeared for two months why?"

Lucifer looked down for a silent moment and I thought he wasn't going to reply but his voice interrupted me before I had a chance to speak and he glanced at me again. "I was busy."

"Yeah, okay. Well I'm busy now, please just go." He nodded and then, without saying anything, disappeared.

 

 

The brothers were sat around the kitchen island when I managed to calm myself enough to leave the room, Sam, as usual, focused on something on his laptop and Dean buried in a burger and beer.

"Hey," Sam looked up, suddenly using his 'soft voice', "you okay?"

"Don't give me those eyes, moose." I rolled my own, pulling up a seat and pulling the fast food bag to myself. "I'm fine, stop tiptoeing around me." I pulled out a burger and dug into it.

"See, what did I tell you?" Dean grumbled around a mouthful of his own burger, then took a swig of beer. "Shut up." Sam went back to reading whatever he'd been reading previously, but not before shooting me another worried glance.

The rest of the meal went like that, Sam shooting me worried looks and Dean completely oblivious.

The older brother walked me back to my room once we'd all finished eating, clearly wanting to get away from Sam and not entirely as comfortable with my assurance that I was okay.

"Do you want some company?" He asked as we neared my room, glancing down at me.

"I think I'll be good, just want some time to think for a bit." I offered him a smile and we were both silent for a moment when we stopped at my door, before he leaned down and kissed me quickly. Though it was gentle and didn't last long, something more than what he'd ever shown me lingered in the touch. When he pulled away we both stared at each other, his eyes wide.

Before he could say anything I moved into the room and shut the door, not wanting to deal with whatever it was he was going to say next.

For a moment I dropped my forehead to the wood of the door, taking in a deep breath and pushing back the emotions welling in my throat. When I turned around, however, it became apparent that I had another issue to deal with.

Lucifer stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched at his sides, eyes dark with the same anger I'd left him with.

"Look, Luce, I don't know what you're going to say, but I probably don't want to-" Before I could finish my sentence he'd strode forward, hands easily finding purchase on my hip and neck, and caught my lips with his forcefully. It was the second time, within a minute, that I found myself being kissed by someone I'd least expected it from, only this kiss was far hotter, more desperate, than the one Dean had left me with and, unlike with Dean, it took less than a second for me to respond.

His lips were burning, heated flames that licked pleasant pressure into my own while he held me in place.

He used my shocked gasp to claim my mouth and, when he finally pulled away, it took us both a moment to catch our breath; he running his fingers through his already messy hair and me, back pressed to the door to put as much space between us as we could, frozen in shock.

"What was that for?" I finally managed to choke out and when I did he met my look with firey eyes.

"I thought it was rather obvious." He laughed, voice husky. "How dare he touch you like that?" The growl was a shock and it made me jump slightly, edging even further from where he stood, clearly still very angry.

"W-what? Who, Dean? I really don't think that it was like that." He raised an eyebrow at me and I silently conceded, but didn't untense or move any closer to him. "How am I supposed to interpret this, Luce?"

With a sigh he backed away a bit, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're incredibly frustrating, you know that? Do you want me to sugarcoat it for you, sweetheart?"

"Is that what this has all been about. The visits, the talks?"

"No." We both fell into silence for a while. "At first no. It became rather apparent, rather quickly to me though." He laughed sardonically, finally looking up at me again, though this time with something of fatigue, distance. "It wasn't entirely why I kept coming back, however, your company has been the highlight of my century."

I took a step toward him, unsure of how to respond. "So what is this, lust?" I glared at him. "Do you think you can use me for some hedonistic night off? Because that's never going to happen."

The laughter that erupted from him then was cold, sarcastic and the sound felt as if it pierced my bones. "Hedonism isn't all I have going for me. In fact there's a little less of that than you'd expect."

"I've read through these books, Lucifer." I waved a hand to the shelves that lined the room. "I know the stories, what you're really like."

"Stories come at a price; they're usually only one side of things, darling."

The anger flared again. "Then what the fuck is it? Huh?"

"I don't want to say it's love." I felt my eyes widen.

"Then don't." His jaw clenched and for a moment it looked like he might move toward me again. "Jesus, please don't."

"Why is that so bad?" Suddenly he was the one who looked angry, and the change was terrifying. Ordinarily his rage showed so subtly in the passive nature of his usual appearance, and in that it was deadly. But now it was clear, in his tightened jaw and white knuckles, and the way his shoulders set back, as though straining against what I knew was the ache to release his wings. "Ever since my father decided that our existence, that of the angels, was less than yours, you disgustingly flawed creatures, my opinions have cost me my world." His voice was rising. "And now I can't say love, to you, _you_ of all people. That's not _natural_ of me, how dare I? Me, the angel of music, of light, of _love;_ so destructive and weak and terrible that I can't feel it."

Tears were welling in my eyes at the anger, the gut wrenching sadness that coated his voice and stung his gaze and how unguarded it was, at the way his words were loud and clear and yet still held pain in the occasional falter.

"Luce-"

"Don't call me that." He cut me off, voice hard. "Don't show me that kind of familiarity if it means nothing to you. All I've wanted, tried to be, was anything but a monster in your eyes - just yours. But the futility in that really is real, I didn't let myself believe that until now."

I moved forward quickly then, before he could back away from me again, and ignored the thoughts of what he could do, of all the old fear, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him down to where I stood so that I could kiss him this time. It was salty from the tears that had escaped down my cheeks, and hard and cold from his withdrawal and he tugged me off of him almost immediately, gently but firmly, shaking his head.

"I don't want your pity, darling." He whispered, eyes closed, and the disconnect there brought a whimper from my chest.

"It's not pity, Luce," I cupped his face, feeling extraordinarily useless, "please just look at me. It's not pity, I swear. You're not, you're not a monster to me." Trailing butterfly kisses across his cheeks and unresponsive lips, I tried to suppress the next round of tears and whispered another apology. "I'm so sorry, I never knew, I just was scared, but I'm not now, okay? I'm not, Luce, please just look at me."

He laughed tiredly, pressing his forehead to mine and opening his eyes finally. "Whatever happened to personal space?"

I returned with a watered-down smile. "I realized I wanted you in mine." I gulped, burying my face in his neck, feeling desperately as if he was going to slip away. "Luce, listen to me, please. I've grown up to believe that I should fear you, when I realized that you were nice to be with I was afraid, honestly, I was terrified, and really confused and worried by why you were even around me, and hurt by that worry too because all I could think was that you wanted to use me. It wasn't intentional, but I don't think you're terrible. Jesus, I don't think you can't feel love, you just can't feel it for me." He moved to pull out of my grasp but I tugged him closer again. "No, not like that. Not because of you, because of me. Because of Dean and Sam and Cas and Gabriel. Because this is what I'm doomed to, to messing things up, to hurting you, I can't do that." I laughed nervously then, swallowing thickly. "Things are just too messed up and complicated. But I've felt closer to you than I could ever feel to Dean or Sam in those few months we spent with each other. Fuck, of course I love you."

His hands tightened gently on my waist, pulling me away from his neck to duck his head and stare at me.

"What?"

"I love you." I sighed in concession, meeting his gaze again.

He didn't pause then, only wrapped his arms around me, finding my lips again and kissing me deeply.

My back found the bed swiftly after that, though he only left my lips alone when I pulled away for much needed air and then he moved to kiss my cheeks and trail his white-hot lips down my neck, his hands easily unbuttoning the shirt I'd been wearing and making easy work of my bra.

The haste of the action made me giggle a bit and he looked up momentarily to raise an eyebrow up at me before moving back to layering my chest in hot kisses, occasionally darting his velvet tongue out to tease my nipples. He made the same time with my jeans, but hesitated at my underwear, glancing up at me for a second as his fingers ran under the band before he slid them down my legs and allowed me to kick them off.

Neither of us were sentimental enough to discuss it. We didn't need the words to explain much more than what we'd already said to each other and he moved smoothly, not wasting time with asking me anything more.

He grasped my hips and shifted me bodily up the bed, silencing the next little laughs that escaped my throat with another intense kiss, sliding one leg between both of mine and running his hands under my ass, squeezing gently to solicit a squeak from me. With a smile at that he moved his attention back to my chest, tugging a nipple into his hot mouth and running his hand between my legs, fingers parting my already dripping sex before he slid one into me and moved his mouth up to bite my neck gently.

I wound my fingers into his hair, a sigh escaping my lips as he slid another in to join the first, his thumb gently massaging my clit. His touch, in a way that definitely wasn't human, left a burning ache that pooled in my lower stomach and set my nerves on fire. Though he'd claimed the hedonistic side of him wasn't as prominent as was assumed, simply the pumping of his fingers between my legs was enough to bring me to a loud edge very soon; an edge he held me at, hovering over me with a Cheshire grin, until, with a growl of frustration, I'd ripped him down to me by a handful of his hair and the touch of his lips had tipped me over.

"Your stupid clothes are in the way." I grumbled breathlessly once he'd pulled away, still chuckling a bit at my frustration.

"I know."He snapped his fingers lazily and in a second they were gone and he'd moved over me again. Unable to stop myself, I glanced down and had to bite my lip to stop the gasp that attempted to escape at the sight of him.

"I think I know where the stories of your hedonism came from." I giggled, meeting his gaze again.

"There are a few reasons those stories came about." He kissed me softly, then wrapped an arm around my back, pulling me up so that our bodies were flushed together, and the heat that radiated from him made my body feel even more tense, letting his lips brush across the shell of my ear. "But not anymore, I will not touch another, you are my only."

I swallowed thickly, suddenly very nervous and overwhelmed by how close he was and then his lips found mine again as he moved over me, spreading my legs easily and positioning himself at my entrance. He didn't stop to talk, that was covered purely in the look we shared, only thrust roughly into me, one hand gripping my thigh painfully tightly, eyes black. 

It hurt enough that I had to cover my own mouth, nails digging into his bare shoulder, having not entirely expected it and given no time to adjust to his considerable size. He pressed his forehead to mine, freeing his hands to hold my hips in place gently.

"Relax, it'll be okay." He whispered softly, catching my lips eagerly, gently and slowly pulling himself out and the next movement turned my legs pleasantly numb.

"H-how did that take so little?" I managed to gasp out when he grinned down at me, clearly self-satisfied.

"I told you those stories came from somewhere." He brushed across my earlobe once again and the next time he moved out he buried himself completely inside me, catching my wrists and pinning them on either side of my head, hips rolling into mine.

We found a rhythm that he largely controlled, his lips taking on the job of bruising my neck with hard kisses and his hands freed, once he used some stupid angel mojo to trap my arms up, to grasp my hips and massage my clit. It didn't take long for me to cum again and, once I did, he grinned down at me mischievously, releasing my wrists and, after a few last thrusts to ride out my orgasm, picking me up and sitting me on his lap, back to his chest.

He wrapped one hand around my lower stomach and pulled my arms back again, feeding his own arm through them behind me so that I couldn't pull them back before picking me up and sitting me on my knees in front of him. I felt his lips on my neck again, his hot tongue darting out against the already tender skin as he lowered me onto him. I leant my head back onto his shoulder, kissing his neck lightly and allowing him to take complete control, fully aware of how good he was at it.

"Luce, fuckkk. You feel so good." I breathed, incapable of speaking much above anything that required no lung capacity, and in response his grasp tightened and the next few rough thrusts brought a scream out of me. "Luce, wait, stop!" I gasped, tightening my thighs around his and he gave a few rough, refusing thrusts before he froze. "The door, lock the door." I whispered, panting and suddenly very tense at the concept of the brothers walking in on what we were doing.

He chuckled huskily and released my arms, sliding himself out of me and picking me up to set me down in front of him on the wooden floor before wrapping an arm around my front again to support my when my legs gave.

"Why don't you just use your mojo?" I managed through the giggles when he had to pick me up and walk me over with him, and he nipped my neck softly, letting out a warm, gentle laugh of his own.

"Because." he let me down again, still keeping an arm around me and reached past to lock the door, "then I couldn't do this." He pushed me forward and before my legs could give up again he used a foot to shove them apart, pressed me into the door and swiftly thrust himself into me from behind again. The loud moan that it elicited was cut off by his hand over my mouth and a husky, "don't want anyone to hear, sweetheart."

The door rattled with each thrust and the cold of the wood teased my nipples and, with each groan I couldn't repress, Luce would give a particularly hard thrust and I could almost see the grin on his face. He reached up to hold the frame with his free hand, grunting progressively louder into my hair as each thrust became more sporadic, desperate and his other hand wrapped around me tightly in a way that I knew would leave a terrible, deep bruise.

"Oh father," he breathed, the wood he'd been grasping  splintering above our heads, "you feel like my end." He cursed in a strangled voice and the next few words were a spitting, violent language I'd never heard, his voice strained, before he shoved himself completely into me and I felt him tighten and cum, the sensation sending me over once again with a loud moan. "Fuck." He snarled, breathing heavily, his hips jerking into me again and again as we both came down from the dizzy high we'd left each other in.

Once I managed to detach myself, removing him from me so that I could turn around and, standing on my tiptoes to reach him, pull him into a deep kiss that ended in him pushing my back into the door we'd just left.

"I can't get closer enough to you." He breathed, frustration coating his tone.

I grinned. "At least you won't have to worry about personal space."


End file.
